


Note from the Inquisitorial Archives #12

by professorplum221



Series: Notes from the Inquisitorial Archives [12]
Category: Warhammer 40.000, Warhammer 40k (Novels) - Various Authors
Genre: Alcohol, F/M, Non-Explicit Sex, Smoking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-10
Updated: 2021-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-16 15:15:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29951895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/professorplum221/pseuds/professorplum221
Summary: Documents pertaining to an evening Ciaphas Cain spent with the governor of the planet Traego, shortly after the tyranid incursion that interrupted a comparatively easy assignment.
Relationships: (mentioned) - Relationship, Ciaphas Cain/Amberley Vail, Ciaphas Cain/Kerin (Ciaphas Cain series)
Series: Notes from the Inquisitorial Archives [12]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2043088





	Note from the Inquisitorial Archives #12

**Author's Note:**

> This one is a direct epilogue to the short story "The Bigger They Are," which was just recently released for the 2021 Black Library Celebration! You don't necessarily need to have read it to get the general idea of what's going on, especially because I kind of summarize it in my in-character note at the beginning, but if you're planning to, you might prefer to do that first before reading this.

_ This excerpt from Commissar Cain's memoirs appears to describe events which took place on the planet Traego, following the unexpected appearance and even more unlikely defeat of an astronomically large tyranid. By all accounts, it was the commissar's suggestion of a creative use for the anti-gravity technology employed in a popular local sporting contest called "nullball" that saved the capital city from complete destruction. Characteristically, he doesn't appear to credit his own actions with their full impact. _

_ \- Underscribe P. Plumb, 137.M42 _

"Another drink, your excellency?" I asked.

"I thought I already told you to dispense with the formality, Commissar," the most unorthodox planetary governor I'd met in quite a while responded. She turned her head toward Kasteen and Broklaw before continuing, "That goes for the two of you as well, of course. I never bother with titles and honorifics in private. Just call me Kerin unless there's someone around to impress. And I  _ will _ have another drink, thank you."

Kerin's casual attitude wasn't the only thing that set her apart from most others I've encountered in her position of authority; she had also demonstrated a surprising amount of concern for her people when the first news of the approaching comet broke, not to mention an aptitude for both aircraft piloting and general tactical thinking. True, she  _ had _ almost gotten me and scores of civilians killed with her initial plan for dealing with the Titan-sized creature once it landed, but the fact that she had been willing to sacrifice herself along with us showed a great deal more courage and common sense than I've come to expect from the nobility. And anyway, it all turned out alright in the end, and almost getting me killed is hardly a disqualifier when it comes to my opinions of a woman's charms—just ask Amberley [1]. With such an unexpectedly competent administrator in charge, it was no wonder that the rebellion the 597th had originally been sent here to extinguish had failed so miserably prior to our arrival.

I helped myself to a generous serving of amasec from Kerin's cabinet at the same time as refilling her much less palatable choice of local beverage [2], depositing the latter on her desk and taking mine over to the window. I looked out at the darkened cityscape beyond, wondering how many of the evacuees would already be returning to find out whether their homes had survived the battle. At least the vast majority of the civilians had survived themselves, which was more than I had hoped for just brief hours earlier. They had their planet's strange taste in sporting contests to thank for that [3].

As I surveyed the view, Kasteen and Broklaw exchanged first names and similar expressions of disregard for conventional decorum with the governor, who had invited the three of us for celebratory refreshments in her office following the conclusion of our incursion with the massive tyranid. My colleagues seemed at least as refreshed as I was to meet a governor with common sense and a friendly disposition, and the conversation soon naturally meandered through a variety of topics including interplanetary politics and the latest achievements of the 597th. I admit that I wasn't a particularly good guest for most of that, making minimal contributions to the merriment of the others. In fact, I was a bit relieved when Kasteen finished her drink and declared that it was getting late, and even more so when Broklaw agreed with her and the two of them stood up to leave.

"Coming with us, Ciaphas?" Kasteen asked.

"I'm just waiting for Jurgen." This response, in fact, wasn't strictly true. While I was in possession of a vox-bead which I could have used to summon my aide to chauffeur me whenever I chose, I hadn't done so yet, preferring instead to remain in silent contemplation of the view outside the governor's window. Fortunately, neither Kasteen nor Broklaw questioned me, simply bidding farewell to our host with warm handshakes before departing through the door.

"You've been very quiet, Commissar," came the governor's voice from behind me once we were alone.

"I thought you were the one who insisted on first names."

"Ciaphas, then." She had moved close enough to me by this point that her voice was still audible even as she said my name in almost a whisper, clearly anticipating more from my response.

I turned away from the window to face her and sighed. "It's just that no matter how many times I come face-to-face with my own death in this line of work, it never seems to get any easier. For some people, maybe—but not for me."

Kerin nodded. "You're a bit shaken by it. A bit generally melancholic about life and death as a result. I understand."

"You do?" She had appeared so unhesitant earlier when she announced the plan that would have killed us all alongside the tyranid that I had taken her for one of those curiously stoic types who aren't bothered by the thought of death at all—someone who might even find comfort in the idea of dying for the glory of the Emperor. 

"I'm a planetary governor," she responded. "You think I've never narrowly escaped an assassination attempt? Not to mention that would-be rebellion your people are still cleaning up."

I wondered then about her age, and the length of time she had been in office. But instead of that potentially impolite question, I simply asked, "You've gotten used to it, then? You certainly seem to be handling it well."

"On some level, maybe I have."

"I can't ever seem to reach that point myself. I really wasn't cut out for this job." It was a much more unguarded statement than would have usually left my lips under the circumstances, and for that I'd like to blame the amasec that I had been consuming quite liberally the whole time I had been in the governor's office.

"You say that, and yet you're the reason we're both still standing here."

I shook my head. "I'm not. You would have—"

"It was your idea that saved us. I should thank you, on behalf of all my people. And if there's anything I can do to help you in return, you need only say the word."

I eyed her curiously, slowly setting my glass down on the windowsill, and wondering how far she had intended that offer to extend.

In the end, I didn't have to ask. She appeared to read the question in my gaze, and we fell into each other's arms without talking much at all.

The thought occurred to me, as I lifted her onto the edge of her desk, that despite my broad familiarity with the daughters of the governors of several different planets I'd visited throughout my career, this was my first time adding an actual acting governor to my long and sordid list of intimate acquaintances [4]. Of course, I thought better of mentioning that either, although I'm sure she was fully aware that she was far from the only noblewoman whose company I'd had the pleasure of temporarily sharing in between military assignments. Unlike some others, she didn't attempt to engage me in any futile discussions of an imagined future together afterwards—she simply offered me an Iho-stick that I was happy to share before finally making my way back to the barracks from her office under cover of darkness. 

I said goodbye to Kerin not too many days later, when it came time for the Valhallan 597th to pack up and move to the next war zone. Our relationship—as much as it can even be called that—was brief, like so many others cut short by the incompatibilities of differing duties to the Imperium. But she stands out as especially memorable among them because of how honest I was with her for one moment in her darkened office, looking out over an empty city.

That, and because of her planet's strange and unique customs surrounding both beverages and athletic activities.

* * *

_ Inquisitor Vail's Footnotes: _

_ [1] Considering Cain's track record with relationships, I'd venture to argue that almost getting him killed practically counts as courtship. _

_ [2] He's one to talk, considering his own strange preferences where beverages are concerned. _

_ [3] As well as the efforts of Cain himself. _

_ [4] Once more, none of my explorations of any of his personal documents and data files have ever uncovered such a list, leading me to assume that the reference was a figurative one. _


End file.
